Page 75 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

“Moment of truth,” I tell him, lowering my protective goggles so I don’t get dust in my eyes.

“Do it, my man. Give that wood a good hard rubdown.”

I look over at a frowning Brad.

“Why is everything wood-related so dirty sounding?” he mumbles.

With a laugh, I start up the sander. It doesn’t take long to find out the wood is still in great condition beneath the cracked, flaking paint. Of course, with the uneven texture of the wainscoting, it’s more trouble to remove the topcoat. But, after doing all I can with the sander, I grab some loose sandpaper to get in the crevices.

“Wanna do this part?” I ask Brad.

“Fuck yeah,” he says, trotting over.

I grab an extra pair of goggles from my tool belt, settling them in place over Brad’s light green eyes. There’s a flutter in my chest as he grins at me. A tug in my groin I can’t quite control. It’s me who pulls him close this time, smacking a kiss against Brad’s lips that causes him to grin wider.

“My, my,” he says, tone teasing when I let him go. “Does working wood turn you on, Joey-roo?”

“Doing it with you sure does,” I admit.

He looks pleased by that. Happy. And the fact that Brad has gotten comfortable enough to flirt with me makes it all too easy to tease him right back.

“You’re up, apprentice. Show me how you stroke your wood.”

Brad squints at me. “Is this, like, a kinky roleplay thing? ’Cause I could get into that.”

I snort, but apparently he’s only getting started.

“Ooh, Joey, your belt isso big. Please, teach me how to hold your drill. Oh! No, no, wait.” He clears his throat dramatically, and I can’t help but bite my lip. With a lift of his chin, he says, “I’ve got a Brad right here you can tap. Shit, that was good.”

My smile feels ridiculously wide, my chest bubbly and warm. “Hey, bub?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve tapped a thousand brads, but not one of them measures up to you.”

He gapes at me. “Dude. That was smooth.”

“Just like this wood will be when you’re done rubbing it.”

He busts out laughing. “Holy fuck. You picked the dirtiest profession.”

“Somehow,” I say slowly, “it’s only dirty with you.”

Brad preens at that, looking quite proud. With the sun beating down on us, I wave the one and only Brad Ulysses Bradley forward and show him how to get the sandpaper into the tight corners of the wainscoting.

By the time we’re done, the wood has been smoothed back down to its natural glory, and I wonder if I’ve ever spent a day better than this one.

Chapter 19

Brad

Things I’ve learned in the past several hours.

One. Joey looks just as hot in a tool belt as he does wearing a fanny pack. Maybe hotter, although honestly it might be a toss-up. The dude isfine, not a sentiment I’ve had the privilege of thinking before him.

Two. Woodworking is dirty as fuck. Case in point. There’s a machine called a bench grinder. I’m still not entirely sure what it does. Joey started explaining the high-speed flex shaft, and I tuned the rest out. Not my fault, really. My brain was…elsewhere.

Three. This Brad most definitely wants to be tapped. Maybe notfucked-tapped. Not yet, at least. But perhaps our dicks could tap together? A little meet-and-greet? That’s a thing, isn’t it? We could do ourownbench grinding.

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